


In the Wreckage

by writewithurheart



Series: Everything's Better with Tommy Merlyn [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3984292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writewithurheart/pseuds/writewithurheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt: If you are taking prompts I would love a fic similar to the start of Smoak and Merlyn, but with Felicity getting injured in the Undertaking and Tommy and Oliver reactions!</p><p>This is what I came up with...injury and a little fluff...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Wreckage

**In the Wreckage**

“Felicity? FELICITY?!”

She winces at the roar in her ear and weakly reaches up to the earbud miraculously still in her ear. “Yeah.” Felicity grimaces at the creak that is her voice. She’s pretty sure that didn’t even sound like a word. It hurts to take a deep breath, but after a painful cough, she’s finally able to string sounds together into words.

“I’m here.”

A relieved exhale echoes in her ear and she relaxes again, wondering how many times he called her name before she answered. She must have passed out.

Her eyes flutter open with grim determination to make it through this...and she immediately slams them shut as her head throbs in pain. The last thing she remembers is the shaking of the building getting worse and then a chunk of the gray concrete ceiling raining down on her. 

With another painful breath she forces her eyes back open to survey the damage of the still-shaking room. Right in front of her, the computer station is crushed, little bits of their electronic guts dispersed over the floor. Her babies.

“Felicity? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she manages, grimacing at the lie. She is so not fine. It hurts to breathe, which she’s pretty sure means a broken or bruised rib. An involuntary whimper escapes her and she reevaluates. Ribs. There’s probably more than one.

Plus, a concussion. She did black out there for a little while.

“Felicity!”

“What?” she groans. The loud voice isn’t helping the headache. She should probably go to the hospital now that she thinks about it.

“I’m on my way.”

“No, Oliver. You don’t need to do that. Go check on Laurel.” She drags herself into a sitting position. The shaking has mostly stopped now and she’s getting used to the pain, which is really a testament to how weird her life has gotten. 

“Fe-li-ci-ty.”

She would roll her eyes if she wasn’t sure that would make her black out again.

“Damn it, Felicity! Why didn’t you tell me the Foundry was hit?”

Wow. He got here fast. “Well, gee, I was a little busy being unconscious, Oliver.”

She can’t see the door anymore. That can’t possibly be a good sign. “I think I might have a concussion. And a couple broken ribs, but otherwise I’m fine.”

And that’s really the worst of the damage to herself, aside from a few cuts and scrapes. And she’s definitely going to be bruised, but what are a couple of bruises in comparison to other injuries inflicted tonight?

Then, she tries to stand up.

“Ahhhhhh!”

“FELICITY!”

She collapses back into the rubble, staring at her right foot like it betrayed her and swallows hard. Yup. That thing sticking out of her leg is a broken bone. Oh, God. She’s going to be sick. Down here, in the basement of the Foundry, all by herself.

Vaguely, she realizes this is the first time she’s broken a bone. This is what that feels like. But she can’t really take it in because then she’s going to start freaking out about how she can _see her bone outside her body_. Okay, maybe she’s freaking out a little...or a lot.

“Talk to me, Felicity?”

She takes a deep breath against the pain and forces calmness in her voice. “I...I might have been wrong about that assessment.”

“What happened?”

Felicity wasn’t sure before, but that is definitely worry in his voice. Starling’s hero is worried about her. It would almost warm her heart and fuel her crush if she wasn’t in so much pain. “My leg is broken.”

“Are you sure?” Oliver asks.

She starts laughing because it’s just so ridiculous. Is she sure? She can see the damn bone _through her leg_. She barely even recognizes it as a leg because bones are not supposed to stick up like that.

“I’m almost there.”

“Did I say that out loud?” she asks, frowning at the destroyed room in front of her. When she really listens, she can hear the distant shift on concrete in the general direction of the door. It’s hard to tell because the room appears to be spinning right now.

“Felicity, I need you to keep talking to me.”

“Okay,” she slurs, closing her eyes to rest them because they feel heavy...so heavy...so...incredibly...

...

Her first thoughts are: That beeping isn’t my alarm.

It’s a mundane thought that flits through her mind as she slowly wakes up.

Her next thought is that it probably should be her alarm, because she has definitely overslept. She doesn’t have to open her eyes to know it. She can feel the sunlight on her face. And it’s a really good thing that she knows Oliver because he can probably make sure she gets to keep her job.

Then she feels a feather-light touch on her cheek. She turns closer to the contact, humming before she realizes what she’s doing.

Eyes fly open.

 _The Undertaking_.

An earthquake.

The Foundry was destroyed.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Felicity’s wild eyes land on chair by the window. Tommy Merlyn grins back at her, looking a little cut up, but otherwise fine.

“You gave us quite the scare.”

She follows his eyes to her other side, where Oliver sits, chair dragged right up to the bed, hand still lifted to her cheek.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Hi.” Maybe it’s some weird dream. Maybe that’s why they’re here. This is her concussion-induced dream, but whose wouldn’t it be? She’s waking up to two hot men in her hospital room. Although, dream-her could have made it more fantastical. There could have been a beach involved. And Oliver should be shirtless.

Oliver chuckles and Tommy guffaws in the corner so hard he’s wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

She frowns. “I’m guessing that was all out loud.”

Oliver nods, cupping cheek. “And this isn’t a dream.”

“So we did only partially stop the Undertaking?” He nods. “And I was trapped in the basement?” Another nod. She glances down at her body and groans. “Great. A broken leg. That’s fun.”

Oliver chuckles, his thumb absent-mindedly drawing comforting circles on her cheek. “A broken leg, three bruised ribs and a concussion, but it could have been a lot worse. You shouldn’t have been there.”

“Hey,” she says before he can drag himself into a dark, broody hole. “This was my choice. It’s not your fault.”

His stormy eyes meet hers. “You could have died, Felicity. All because I brought you into my crusade.”

“I _chose_ to join it, Oliver. It was _my_ choice. Besides, without me, both devices would have destroyed the Glades. We saved _thousands of lives_. I don’t regret it.” She grabs his hand and squeezes it, begging him to understand. The last thing she does is blame him.

He lifts their joined hand and presses a kiss to the back of her hand, eyes never leaving hers. Suddenly, Felicity’s having trouble breathing and it has nothing to do with her ribs. There’s a depth to his eyes that she can’t quite read, a longing that she doesn’t want to investigate or overthink because it’s probably nothing.

Neither of them comments on how her heart monitor starts beeping faster.

...

Felicity drifts off a few minutes later, hand still clasped tightly in Oliver’s. He hasn’t left her side since he brought her in. Digg had been forced to call Tommy in when he had to go home and couldn’t watch Oliver any more.

“You’ve got it bad,” he comments to his best friend with a grin.

“What?” Oliver asks, finally pulling his eyes from the sleeping blonde.

Tommy nods at the IT girl sagely. “You raced through a crumbling city to pull her out of a collapsed building.”

Oliver frowns. “She was hurt and trapped. There wasn’t any choice.”

The idiot is proving his point. God, Oliver doesn’t even see it. “That’s kind of my point.”

“I don’t understand.”

It’s almost cute how confused the guy is. He can run around the city all night in a green leather hood shooting arrows, but doesn’t realize when he’s falling in love. Tommy grins and leans back in his chair. “When you found out Laurel was still at CNRI, what did you do?”

“What does that-“

“What did you do?” Tommy calmly repeats.

He shrugs. “I called you.”

“And when Felicity didn’t respond?”

He can see the wheels spinning in Oliver’s head, but the pieces still haven’t clicked together for him. “I got her out.”

“And did you stop to help anyone else along the way?” Tommy’s apparently going to have to lead him through this step by step.

“She was hurt, Tommy. I had to help her. There was no other choice.”

“She could have lasted a while longer. You heard the doctors.”

“Damn it, Tommy! She was hurt and I had to help her! What about that is so difficult to understand?”

Tommy shakes his head at the evident rage. Apparently, Oliver wasn’t ready to admit it yet, even to himself. He holds his hands up in surrender and leans back as his best friend turns back to the blonde in the hospital bed.

He’s so going to tell this story at their wedding.


	2. At the End of a Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events at the end of season 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had some requests to continue the story. While I like the idea, I didn't want to turn it into a gigantic thing because I'm working on other multi-chapter fics and I already rewrote half of season 2 with Smoak and Merlyn. So here's a little snippet of the end of Season 2, a year after the previous chapter. I hope you like it!

**At the End of a Sword**

“I knew you would come.”          

Slade’s gravelly voice reaches Oliver as he rounds the corner and catches sight of the metal sword pressed against the pale column of Felicity’s throat. The bow is drawn, directed straight at the man holding the sword to the blonde’s throat.

The fear mixes with determination in her eyes as they latch onto him. She’s putting on a brave face and he sees her hand clench in her jacket around what he knows is the vial he slipped her. He hates seeing her here, hates seeing her terrified, in front of _Slade Wilson_.

_Go after her_. Tommy’s words echo in his mind as he advances.

“Drop the bow, kid.”  

_Trust me, Oliver. I can do this_. He knows she can. He didn’t need her to tell him before they walked into the mansion and played their parts. He knows she can do anything. He’s taken advantage of her for the past year, but she’s always been his _girl_. They’re going to make it through this and he’s going to finally ask her on that date Tommy keeps mentioning.

“Do it,” Slade growls, sword pressing harder against Felicity’s neck so she has to shy away, further into his enemy.

Oliver complies, heart clenching in anxiety over her distress even as he hears Laurel struggling with Slade’s henchmen. He can’t fight yet. Felicity hasn’t injected him. Slade isn’t cured. Not right now. Instead he’s monologuing – something about him killing Shado and how he’s going to kill the ‘woman he loves.’

_The woman he loves._

Hell. He’s doing this all wrong. He _handed_ Slade Felicity on a platter. She doesn’t know how he really feels about her. All she has is that one kiss he stole in the clocktower before they were forced to jump out of it to evade Slade’s men. And he probably went and messed everything up with this charade.

He meets her eyes again, her brilliant, blazing eyes, and she nods, finally pulling her hand from her pocket. She slams the syringe into Slade’s neck and runs out of the way.

Oliver watches enough to see that Tommy and Sara have her and Laurel before fully engaging Slade. This is his battle, his challenge. He’s going to win this fight and get back to her. There’s no other choice.

...

“Oliver!”

She races past Sara and Tommy despite their protests only to stop a couple feet from him as she notices his limp. Her eyes rake over his body, taking stock of every scratch and bruise marring his skin. She’s afraid to hug him, to accidentally knock him over. So instead she finds herself staring into his eyes, breathing harder than running to him warranted. There’s so much she wants to say, but how can she ask him if he meant what he said earlier?

Oliver breaks the moment, reaching out to grab her arm and pulling her into his chest. She wraps her arms around him, mindful of injury. Oliver, in turn, clings to her, burying his nose in her hair and breathing deeply. He closes his eyes and holds her a little closer, relishing this confirmation that she’s alive.

Felicity squeezes him tighter and lightly kisses his costumed chest. She doesn’t know what compels her to do it, but by the time she thinks, it’s already done. She pulls back a bit and asks, “Slade?”

He pulls back, lifting a hand to cup her cheek, thumb drifting across her cheek and suddenly she’s transported back to the mansion a couple hours ago. He sighs and nods. “It’s over.” He leans forward and rests his forehead on hers. “You were amazing.”

She swallows at the emotions she sees dancing in his eyes. “Oliver...” Now. She needs to ask him now. She needs to ask if he meant it.

His hand drops from her cheek to her neck. “When he had that sword to your throat...” He closes his eyes like the very thought causes him pain. “I don’t ever want to put you in that situation ever again.”

Her hand wraps around his wrist. “Hey, I’m fine. Not a scratch.”

He shakes his head, still remaining in contact with her. “No. I shouldn’t have asked you...I just-“

“There was no other way,” she fills in, rubbing her thumb over his pulse point. His eyes open again, boring into hers.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Oliver...”

“No. Let me say this. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for pushing you away with Sara, for making you doubt you importance, for treating you as replaceable, for using you to get to Slade...I meant it.” He separates her forehead from his, but holds her gaze.

Felicity frowns, eyes searching his face to figure out what he’s trying to say.

“I love you.”

She didn’t think it would shock her the second time. That was stupid. Because here she is back in the same place she was a couple hours ago, staring blankly up at Oliver. Part of her is waiting for him to slip a vial into her hand again.

“Felicity,” he whispers, gently cupping her face as he moves a little closer. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

She frowns, blinking rapidly at him and then at past him at the ARGUS soldiers moving through the area, the occasional assassin, and Sara and Tommy. Her gaze returns to Oliver, taking in his scratched and bruised face, but his eyes are still bright and sincere, holding hers.

“As in...” She throws another glance a passing ARGUS agent, “a date? A _date_ date?”

He grins. “Yes, a date date.”

“Now?” Her mouth opens and closes. All she can do is stare at him in shock before she realizes how ridiculous the situation is and starts laughing. “Oliver, you just fought Slade and now you’re asking me on a date?”

His smile widens. His hands slide down her arms to clasp her hands, interlocking their fingers. “Yes, Felicity. And you’re kind of leaving me hanging here.”

“You’re serious?”

Oliver chuckles. “Is that a yes?”

The smile that spreads across her face takes his breath away. She nods slowly and suddenly it doesn’t matter that every part of him hurts, that he barely survived the day, that she was taken from him a couple hours ago.

“About damn time! Now, can we get out of here?” Tommy demands, shaking the lovebirds from their trance.

Felicity turns bright red and presses her face into Oliver chest, feeling the rumble of laughter rather than seeing it. Oliver grins at his best friend over Felicity’s head.  Tommy winks at him and Sara makes suggestive faces.

He presses a kiss to Felicity’s head and leans forward to whisper in her ear. “He’s right. We should get out of here. We need to take Slade to Lian Yu.”

She pulls away frowning. “Lian Yu?”

Oliver brushes her hair back from her face. “And then our date. How does Italian sound?” 


End file.
